“Scott, how do you know Rory?” Owen asked.
I choked on my water and excused myself to check the pies. I hadn’t said Scott’s name around Owen, and I guess Jaime hadn’t mentioned him before. Owen looked at me with pressed eyebrows and returned to Scott.
Scott hesitated before responding. “Rory and I dated for a little over a year.”
“Oh, shite.” Owen stood up and walked into our tiny kitchen. “Need help?” he asked me.
“It’s fine. We’re fine, right Rory?” Scott said.
My lips pulled into a slight smile. “Mm-hmm.” I turned to Owen. “No thanks, I’m all set.” I busied myself in the fridge, my fingers shaking.
“It lasted through the summer, but we grew apart and parted ways.” Scott approached the counter and watched me work.
Liar. My face burned with contempt because I was not part of that conversation. I excused myself from the room and splashed water on my face from our pedestal bathroom sink. My vacant eyes stared back at me. Two more days.
Rubbing a rough towel across my face, Jaime appeared in the mirror’s reflection. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded and sat on the closed toilet seat, making room for him to come in and close the door. “I’m okay. I can get through this. I don’t know if Zoey told you, but he and Marty are dating. Marty told Zoey last night at the pub. That’s why Zoey asked me to take her home.”
The tears fell down my cheeks, but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t love Scott. He treated me like garbage, and I believed it was normal…until I met Jaime.
Jaime wrapped his arms around me and held me while I let it all out. “Why are you crying?” he asked.
I chuckled and pulled away. “Because I’m so stupid for trusting her. I never thought she would do that to me, you know? You don’t do that to your best friend.” I waved my hand in the air. “I don’t care about him. He can drop dead for all I care, but she hurt me. It’s like she was a puppeteer controlling my life, and when I came here, I broke free of the strings. And now she’s back, pretending nothing happened so she can control me again.”
“Do you want me to ask them to leave?” Jaime asked.
I shook my head, wiping my eyes. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get through it. They deserve each other.”
The timer in the kitchen dinged. “I’ll take care of that.” He walked away from me, and I wanted to call him back so he could protect me, but I knew I had to handle this on my own.
As I wiped my eyes one last time, an ear-piercing screech screamed at me. I covered my ears and raced out of the bathroom. Black smoke filled the kitchen, and Marissa waved a towel under the smoke alarm. Zoey stood at the open front door waving her arms, and the others stood on the balcony looking in.
“The yams,” Jaime yelled over the beeping. “They’re blackened.” He tossed the glass dish on the stove and poured water over the black marshmallows, which should have been a golden brown. Smoke erupted from the pan, and everything sizzled.
Jaime pulled out the cookie sheet with the black balls, which used to be rolls, and removed one, knocking it on the counter. He threw it into the trash can, and it landed with a thud. My apple and pumpkin pies, which rested on the rack below the sweet potatoes, dripped with black marshmallow goo.
Once the beeping stopped, our guests stepped inside, still covering their ears with their hands. Our kitchen could only handle two people moving simultaneously, so the rest of our friends huddled in the corner of the living room.
Trapped between my boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend, and my former best friend, I struggled to keep it together. The delicate dam behind my eyes broke, and tears of frustration slid down my face for the second time in ten minutes. I wanted to run away but couldn’t leave Jaime to clean up my mess. Instead, my legs carried me to the counter, and I raced the burning dishes to the cold outside. Once alone, I squatted behind the door and sobbed into my arms.
It’s ruined. Not just my dinner, but my sanity. So many missed opportunities to prevent this moment, but it’s too late. I let Marty walk all over me, and now my favorite day of the year is just another day thrown into the dumpster fire that is my life.
A firm hand gripped my shoulder. “No worries.” Jaime’s deep voice brought me back to him, and I peeled myself off the wet, frozen concrete slab. “I got this.” I followed him inside and excused myself to change into dry clothes.
When I returned, he had removed the black topping and transported the yams into a bowl and mashed them into a chunky puree. “Now we have mashed potatoes or mashed yams. It’s okay.”
I shivered and wiped my nose. “Thank you.”
Jaime addressed the group like a mayor standing on a podium after winning an election. “Lads and lasses, dinner is a tad delayed, but it will be ready in a few minutes. Grab your drinks and take a seat.”
He took out a loaf of bread and threw it on the table, placing the bowl of mashed and sweet potatoes beside it. Sawing through the turkey with a steak knife, he put the moistest pieces on a dinner plate. Next to the turkey went the gravy, sitting in a coffee mug. After tearing through the cabinets, Jaime poured a package of chocolate-coated biscuits into a bowl. “Dessert,” he said, winking at me, “Also known as digestives.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. He saved me again. I didn’t know why he picked me, but I knew I needed to remain by his side for the rest of Marty and Scott’s visit.
“Dinner is served.”
We arranged our plates and gathered around the table and counter. Jaime, Zoey, and I sat at the island, facing the kitchen, while Owen, Aoife, Marissa, Scott, and Marty squeezed around the tiny table behind us.
